


confabulation

by armethaumaturgy



Category: Elsword (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Talking, arme and sia talk about stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-07
Updated: 2017-03-07
Packaged: 2018-09-29 21:26:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10144640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/armethaumaturgy/pseuds/armethaumaturgy
Summary: “Can I join you?” he asks, quiet as to not startle him.Arme’s eyes stay closed; he doesn’t give Sia even a single look before he says, “Suit yourself.” But Arme isn’t opposed to him sitting by, or else he would’ve made it more than clear.





	

He finds the blue haired Celestial sitting at the highest peak Elder’s surroundings offer, cross legged and with eyes closed, head tilted just the bare minimum to the sky. Meditating. Praying.

“Can I join you?” he asks, quiet as to not startle him.

Arme’s eyes stay closed; he doesn’t give Sia even a single look before he says, “Suit yourself.” But Arme isn’t opposed to him sitting by, or else he would’ve made it more than clear.

Apostasia sits down on the patch of green grass, infinitely softer and more comfortable than it looks. The breeze feels nice as it plays with his hair, making the strands flutter and probably tangle together, but Sia doesn’t much care.

Okay, maybe he does, because tangles are a pain in the ass and a hindrance to his movements. He dips his head and gathers the long hair to the front where he starts to comb his fingers through it, untangling the knots made from the wind and any that were there previous.

“I thought you wanted to join me,” Arme comments, a few minutes into the repetitive motion, causing Sia to look at him. The other Celestial’s eyes were finally open again, looking at him with their usual impassivity.

Sia looks down at his lap and lets go of his hair, opting to play with his fingers instead. “There is no reason to join you in prayer. The Goddess had long since abandoned me.”

Arme is silent for a moment, but Sia can feel him watching, can feel those icy eyes rowing his body, dragging over the contours and lines of corruption spreading over his visible skin.

“The Goddess is forgiving,” Arme states finally. “You are still her… creation.”

Sia’s shoulders shake a little with his laughter. “That may be so. But I don’t believe anymore. I did, I believed and I hoped, and yet, She was nowhere to be seen. Plus it’s… pointless. Finishing the mission will only lead to the prolonging of all this perishable world. One day, sooner or later, it will all crumble, and all this will be for naught.”

The pure length of Sia’s response seems to stun Arme, and he stays quiet for the entirety of it. Sia is about to excuse himself and go back to the city when Arme finally speaks up, obviously having some trouble expressing his thought and — dare he say? — feelings.

“It might. But, it might not be. Even if everything should perish, even the whole world, I believe that the Goddess would start anew. Perhaps we would lead new lives. Perhaps we would not remember any of this.” He pauses, and then looks at the clear expanse of the sky. “Perhaps it had already happened.”

“What is the point, then? Is the Goddess just… watching and laughing? Is this just amusement for her? I don’t understand.”

Again, Arme thinks, staring off over the peak down at the town and at the people bustling and hustling about, no bigger than ants from the distance. “How do you feel when you see Elsword?” he asks, this time startling Sia.

“I— I’m not sure what you’re getting at?”

“When he fights. When he gets hurt. When he wins a tough fight. When you see him having fun, or being sad,” Arme elaborates. “I think… I think the Goddess feels like that, when She watches the world.”

Sia looks down at the town as well, brows furrowing as he watches the people. He supposes he knows what Arme means, but he can’t find it in him to sympathize with the thought. The other Celestial senses his time would be wasted were he to try and force his belief onto the other, so he drops the subject.

Though, barely after a few fleeting minutes of silence, Sia’s right arm is grasped and lifted. Arme’s keen eyes study it closely, looking at the edges of the purple seeping into the normal skin color.

“It spread again,” he points out, like Sia himself hadn’t noticed it.

(To be fair, he hadn’t.)

Arme’s hold on his hand tightens and he peers up at Sia. “Does it hurt?”

Arme’s touch is cold, even with the gloves on. The energy he seems to be almost leaking is cold, so bright and _holy;_  so, so cold that it almost feels scalding. But it doesn’t exactly hurt. It feels familiar, an energy he once possessed as well, but one that is long, long gone. He shakes his head. “No.”

“I mean the marks.”

“Oh,” Sia breathes. “No. They haven’t hurt for a long time.”

“I see,” is all Arme says, letting go of Sia’s hand, which ends up back in his lap, purple fingers playing with the hem of his shirt.

“Do you resent me?” Sia asks, so quietly that it becomes no more than a whisper. The wind could’ve overpowered it.

Arme turns around to face him properly, shifting his legs from their crisscrossed position so he can lean over and brush Sia’s bangs out of his face. The edges of the Henir’s hark become visible from under the gray hair, and Sia’s breath hitches. He looks at Arme like the Celestial so obviously wants him to.

“No. As long as you don’t start doing anything resenting and disgusting as demons do, I have no reason to.”

Sia laughs then, shoulders shaking and a hand coming up to hide his mouth. “I’ll let you kill me if I stoop so low.”

“Is that a promise?”

“Yes.”


End file.
